


close my eyes and feel the crash

by crybaby (orphan_account)



Series: super rich kids [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-27
Updated: 2013-03-27
Packaged: 2017-12-06 16:07:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/737573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/crybaby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>it’s just that, louis’s got money. his step-dad’s pretty big in the google world (as in literally, he’s an exec for google and he gets paid rather beautifully), but harry. harry’s got money spilling out of his socks, metaphorically, and he never seems to forget it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	close my eyes and feel the crash

The leather of the Jaguar’s seats is sticking to the back of Louis’s knees. He had told Harry the air conditioning would probably be a necessity in this dead heat but he had insisted on having the sunroof back because “if we’ve got it, let’s use it, no time to be posh”.

The backseat is occupied by 3 bags; one Burberry suitcase, one Louis Vuitton, and one plain black duffle, conspicuous in its simplicity and the fact that it’s stuffed half under Louis’s seat. But neither of them have any fear of being pulled over because Harry drives like a snail and besides, he’s the heir to the Virgin franchise, so. They’re good.

Louis’s getting restless and his skin feels too tight. He grumbles as he toes his white shoes off and puts his feet onto the dashboard to stretch his legs.

“Toes off the dash, are you high?” Harry snaps, and reaches over to slap the smaller boy’s shin with his left hand.

“’If we’ve got it, let’s use it, no time to be posh’,” Louis parrots as he wriggles his toes and crosses his ankles.

“This is still Richard’s car,” Harry says.

“No offense, but you kind of just stole it,” Louis replies.

Harry sends the older boy a quick leer but says nothing else.

\- 

The hotel is disgustingly swanky, with its brass and silver and crystal and porcelain and mahogany. Absolutely disgusting.

The desk clerk sniffs her nose up when the of them two approach, noting their youth and Louis’s lack of shoes, but her face corrects itself when Harry produces a rolled up bundle of notes seemingly out of thin air.

"Everyone has a price," Harry whispers to him as she presents them with a key.

Disgusting, Louis thinks.

\- 

The room is huge and has a set of glass doors that lead out to the roof.

“Are you planning on blowing all of your savings this weekend?” Louis asks, tossing his shoes and Louis Vuitton onto the mattress. The sheets are blindingly white and the suitcase bounces and flops about before settling. Louis scoffs.

“Waterbed? Is it necessary, Haz?”

Even with his back turned, Harry’s answering eye roll is obvious. He’s at the table in the corner fiddling around in the duffle bag and Louis would be curious if he didn’t already know what it contained.

Harry turns around and he’s got a plastic baggy in each hand.

“Lines or bowl?”

\- 

Three lines are made and then cut in half by Harry’s credit card. We’re gonna share, Louis remembers him saying.

Somewhere between the first line and the second one, Harry lost his shirt. Halfway through the second one, his pants had followed. The third line is gone and Harry is naked and Louis thinks it’s hilarious. Then he unrolls his note and sees 100 written on it and he just about dies.

“Fucking spoiled brat, is what you are,” he says, attempting to throw his note at the ridiculous naked boy currently posed in front of the glass doors and watching it flutter to the ground a few inches away from his feet.

“I have no idea what you mean,” Harry says with a smile, and then he’s launching across the room and latching his mouth onto Louis’s neck.

Louis yelps and puts his hands in the younger boy’s hair. “You’re high and naked, get off,” he laughs out, but he’s twining his fingers into the boy’s curly locks and wrapping his legs around his waist, so Harry doesn’t think he really means it.

Teeth sink into the skin where his neck and shoulder meet and he bites his lip, barely keeping in a tiny whimper as his fingers scratch at Harry’s scalp.

“There’s something I wanted to try,” he whispers into Louis’s ear, breath hot and voice low and Louis tries not to shiver but it happens anyway.

“What’s that?” Louis asks, only mildly out of breath, and his hips aren’t rolling, thank you very much. He’s classy. _Posh._

And before Harry can answer his question, his cell phone is ringing and he’s cursing under his breath and slapping his hand onto the night stand to get it.

“Yes mother,” he answers, and he’s looking Louis straight in the eyes as he crawls backwards to the foot of the bed.

There’s frantic speaking on the other line and Louis can’t make any of the words out. He frowns at Harry, silently asking if there’s need to worry and Harry rolls his eyes in response.

“I’m out,” he says into the phone. He smirks at Louis and Louis smirks back.

“So what if I took it, he’s got 6 others he can drive,” Harry sighs, and Louis feels his smirk beginning to show teeth.

It’s just that, Louis’s got money. His step-dad’s pretty big in the Google world (as in literally, he’s an exec for Google and he gets paid rather beautifully), but _Harry._ Harry’s got money spilling out of his socks, metaphorically, and he never seems to forget it. Some people might call him a prick, but Louis calls him...an attractive prick. With buckets of charm. And chests full of money.

“Richard will be fine, mum, please, don’t give yourself an aneurysm,” Harry chuckles, turning his back to the bed and crossing his left arm across his stomach. Louis’s got a very nice view of Harry’s bum and he’s loving his life right now.

“Do I really seem like I care what Richard thinks? I mean, I _did_ just steal his car,” Harry’s saying and then the talking down the other line turns into yelling and Harry raises his free hand in a defensive way. “I’m kidding, mum, kidding.”

Louis’s smiling and his buzz is starting shimmer around the edges but he still feels bold, so when he crawls forward and bites at the swell of Harry’s arse, he blames the drugs. Mentally.

He hears Harry hum at the contact and takes it as a good sign, kissing and nipping and licking up his back. The talking on the phone has quieted again, and sounds questioning from what Louis can tell.

“Why would it matter?” Harry’s saying, and Louis’s kissed his way up to the other boy’s shoulders. He rests his head on his left shoulder and kisses his jaw.

“No, I’m not alone, I’m with Louis.” Louis looks to his face and sees his eyes closed, like he’s concentrating.

“You know Louis, mum, Jo’s son, with the fringe and the bare feet and the too short shorts.”

Louis scoffs and slaps his head.

Harry’s sighing dramatically all of a sudden though, and then he’s shifting to turn around, holding the phone out towards the boy on his knees on the bed.

Louis narrows his eyes and takes the phone, putting it on speaker because Harry‘s looking as if he‘ll burst into a fit of rage if he doesn‘t know what‘s said

“Hello,” he slowly says, not breaking eye contact with Harry because he looks distressed and Louis knows he’s never really talked to Harry’s mum before but why is he looking like that, Louis’s not going to bark at her.

“Hi Louis, this is Anne,” comes a voice. And it’s cool and collected and calm and now Louis knows where Harry gets it.

“Hello Anne,” is all he says in response, though.

“I know I don’t know you all that well,” she says and then she chuckles, “Christ, I don’t know you at all," and Louis can imagine a small, older female version of Harry running a hand through through her hair.

“But please... watch Harry. He’s been quite restless this year and I know he’s trying to start trouble on purpose,” she raises her voice on the end bit and Harry sneers at the phone in Louis’s palm.

Anne tutts, as if she can see her son being a brat, but she continues on.

“Just make sure he doesn’t vandalise anything or kill anyone and bring him home in one piece.”

“Will do, Anne, I will try my hardest,” Louis says, and Harry rolls his eyes again and snatches the phone back.

“I’m hanging up now,” he says into the phone and then the deed is done and the phone is dropping to the floor.

Harry flops face down onto the mattress and Louis can hear the water sloshing around beneath them.

“That is the definition of buzzkill,” he mumbles, but Louis simply laughs, reaches out to flip Harry onto his back and straddle his hips.

“Not entirely,” he says, but his lips are already touching Harry’s, so the younger boy feels the words more than hears them.

They’re picking up where they left off, only now Louis’s nipping at Harry’s bottom lip and Harry’s hands are slipping under his shirt. He breaks away from Louis’s mouth to mutter a quick, “Why are you still dressed” before he grips the shirt in the front and pulls, popping some of the buttons off and causing Louis to gasp.

“You dick, that was Versace,” he says, leaning up to slap Harry’s chest before he shrugs the shirt off and hits him in the face with it for good measure.

Harry takes it and tosses it to the floor, leans up on his forearms and kisses Louis’s jaw.

“I will buy you 10 more just like it,” he says, and Louis doesn’t know if it’s the statement itself or the eye contact or the gruffness of his voice, but god, that sentence just did something for him.

So he follows Harry’s mouth down and it’s open so he takes that as an invitation. And he finds Harry’s tongue waiting willingly.

His shorts are still on and he feels himself getting hard in them. Harry’s hands are smoothing all over his back and they’re so fucking _big_ , they nearly cover the entirety of him and he shivers and circles his hips down. Harry hisses and digs his nails in, flips them over so blindingly fast that Louis probably wouldn’t have noticed if her weren’t looking up now instead of down.

“I want to try something,” Harry pants into his ear, and Louis feels his hands working on his belt and he can’t seem to form words at the moment so he simply hums and lifts his hips up so Harry can yank his shorts and pants down in one go. But then he’s standing up and walking to grab the duffle off the table and Louis begins to whine at the loss of contact, but then he’s being yanked up by his wrist and Harry’s dumping the contents of the duffle onto the bed and it’s.

Money. Lots of it.

Harry spreads it out with one hand and then he’s crowding into Louis, cupping his face with his hands and moving him back so his calves hit the edge of the bed and his knees nearly buckle.

“Let’s fuck on it,” he’s whispering against Louis’s lips, and Louis’s hands drift to his sides and his nails drag across Harry’s lower back.

“Let’s get it filthy, I’ve got enough to spare.”

And that’s the end of that, really.

\- 

Harry’s mom had met Richard through a friend who knew a friend who knew a friend that owned some big, expensive thing. He’s not really sure of all the details, but he remembers that he had been 10 and he had just started getting over the divorce when suddenly there some _man_ in his house buying him toys he’d never heard of and driving Gemma to friends’ houses and making his mum laugh and it made him mad, it really did.

\- 

Louis wakes up a few hours later and it’s dark and he’s alone and there’s £20 stuck to his stomach. He vaguely remembers Harry using it to wipe cum off before they had both passed out post-coitus but he had thought the fucker had at least moved it.

He sits up onto his forearms and looks around the room. The rest of the notes seem to have all fallen off onto the floor in their slumber, creating a sort of halo around the bed. Looking to his left, Louis sees the glass doors cracked open, and he smells exactly what his missing counterpart is up to.

So there’s money stuck to Louis’s stomach and there’s good weed being smoked without him. What a day this has turned into.

He grabs a robe from the bathroom and wraps it around himself, crumpling the soiled note in his hand and tossing it haphazardly onto the floor. The air outside is bitingly cold and Louis shivers, hard. He sees Harry standing on the ledge - pipe in one hand, lighter in the other - and the little shit is in nothing but his pants.

“3 things,” Louis says as he walks up. Harry’s just finishing another hit and he glances over his shoulder to look at the approaching boy as he exhales.

“1, you’re insane,” he says as he points out the other’s state of undress.

“2, you’re insane,” and now he’s pointing at the way the younger boy’s toes are curling over the edge of the building.

“And 3, you’re _fucking_ insane,” and with that one, he’s snatching the bowl from Harry’s hand (minding the weed, of course) and gesturing wildly around to their very open surroundings.

Harry chuckles under his breath, puts his hands on his hips briefly and then spreads them out like wings.

“Do you remember how we met?” he asks Louis, glancing back and Louis shifts his weight from his left foot to his right.

“Sure, at that...weird, rich people gala Richard threw last year,” Louis answers, and he holds his hand out. Harry tosses him the lighter.

“You were in a gray suit with a ridiculous bowtie and you were tossing back glasses of wine because you were _‘so happy to be eighteen’_ ,” Louis smirks and lights up.

“You have no idea how freeing it felt, being able to do illegal shit legally.”

“You’re right, I’m kind of a go big or go home guy, huh?” Louis answers as he exhales.

Harry laughs, one loud bark, and Louis can’t believe he still feels that urge to make him want to laugh forever.

“I think it’s funny,” Harry starts saying, and Louis notices his arms are still spread and it makes him kind of nervous.

“I think it’s funny how we have all this money but we still can’t fly. Like, with ourselves. We have to rely on machines and people that know how to operate machines, but why can’t we, like, just fly, like with wings?” He turns halfway around and looks expectantly at Louis, like he has all the answers.

“I don’t know, babe, but I think you’re too high for intense thinking right now,” is the only answer Louis has.

“Do you think I could fly off this ledge if I tried really hard?”

“I don’t think you could walk straight if you tried really hard, come on, let’s get down,” Louis starts and he’s barely wrapped his hand around Harry’s wrist before his right foot is slipping and he’s teetering, losing his balance. And a million different scenarios of how this could have happened flash through Louis’s head, ones where Louis had woken up 5 minutes later than he had just now, or ones where he’d snatched the bowl and went back into the warmth of the hotel room, but all that matters is that he’s got Harry’s wrist in his hand and an arm around his waist and he’s pulling his stupidly large body off of the stupid ledge and the stupid fuck is _laughing_ of all things, but his eyes are wide and frightened and brimming with tears, so Louis knows his life probably just flashed in front of them.

“Let’s get you warm and clean,” Louis says and the fingers at the small of Harry’s back are trembling, he thinks.

\- 

“I’m sorry about outside,” Harry’s muttering, and Louis thinks they should probably get out of the tub because the water is cooling, but Harry is like a strange and heavy lump of boy attached to his front and he decides he’s not moving unless the younger boy does first.

“Don’t worry about it,” Louis says into his shoulder.

“Sometimes this sucks,” Harry whispers, and he’s falling asleep and still half high, but Louis knows what he means, so he kisses his shoulder in response.

“You know what we should do tomorrow?” Harry says suddenly seeming more alert.

“What’s that?” Louis asks.

“We should trash the Jag. Maybe we’ll get 3 more to replace it.”

**Author's Note:**

> i'm new here, please have pity on me


End file.
